weirdness.

So I'm getting a sense of deja vu. I've been here before, I've done this before, I've learned this lesson. I see people around me crumple, fear, shock, dissbelief. I just stand, silent. I think to myself, and maybe its wrong but I think 'aha!' there it is. They now feel one little bit of what I feel everyday. They now see a fraction of what (thankfully) they have been blind to. I feel an odd detachment to it because I simply can't take it and yet an attachment because now there is a face I knew, a voice I heard. I wonder, why is it happening?
I see the fear in their eyes, and I can understand why, I feel it myself. Its crazy and unbelievable and I feel...odd.
Life is weird sometimes.

Times they are a-changin...

Right, so the thing that wasn't being said? It was said. It only took a shoulder of vodka and much encouragement from many people not even remotely involved for me to do it. It could have gone horrifically wrong. I could be sitting here writing about how everything is so bleak, and really, what is the point of anything...? But I'm not. In fact, I couldn't be happier. This time, for once in my life, it was worth taking the risk. It kind of made me realise why people take risks all the time.
In life, people take risks every day - both big and small - and as someone who has been relatively unlucky in the risks I've taken, I always wondered what the point was. Now I know. (cue cheesy American TV-with-morals bit...)
Even if, time after time, your risks do not pay off, the one time, that one ever elusive moment when something clicks into place and everything seems to fall together at your feet, makes it all worth it.
Time after time I have taken risks, putting myself out there and leaping head first into things. Time after time, I came up short. Then one day, well, I didn't even need to take much of a risk...it just sort of happened. Now the challenge has changed from taking a risk to facing the fear and not running away. This is truly a different kind of challenge, one I personally find harder. It's one thing to take the initial leap, it's another thing altogether to let go of the safety cord and let yourself fly. But that, my friends, is another story for another blog.
Speaking of stories...

Jane took in the man standing before her. He was very tall with brown hair and a somewhat arrogant air. His name signalled something in Jane's memory, but she could not recall what.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. - Winchester did you say?" she greeted, standing and bowing her head.
"Yes I did. I take it the name rings a bell?" he smiled taking her hand and raising it to his lips.
"Well, yes, actually but I can't quite recall - "
"Ha ha, I'm not surprised. My father, Alfred Winchester? He owns the biggest ship yard in Cork. Everyone knows him."
Now Jane could recall who this young man was. Or at least who his father was. Alfred Winchester was a man much hated by her father. He had started life as a lowly sea merchant and had cheated, swindled and bribed his way to the top of his profession. A few years back Jane's father lost an entire crew of officers on a ship built by Winchester's ship yard. He swore it was because Winchester took shortcuts with the building materials. The loss of those men cut Jane's father's heart deeply. She could not abide listening to this man brag about his father's success a moment longer.
"The biggest shipyard in Cork?" Jane asked.
"Mr Winchester is a very influential and revered man, Jane." Katy supplied. Jane read between the lines of this statement, validating her own suspicions. Mr Winchester was powerful, and feared.
"Well, I suppose that's not hard when it's the only shipyard. Still though, I imagine it's a big achievement for a man who started out as a deck hand."
Jane savoured the gasps of the company and the shock on Mr Edward Winchester's face.
"My dear Katherine, I am rather exhausted, I think I should like to go home now. Will you take a walk with me?" she asked with a sweet smile and feigned fatigue. Katy nodded mutely and hurried to replace her bonnet on her head.
"Miss Granger, I would like to join you in a visit to your aunts house?" the girl by the name of Stephanie asked politely.
"Of course. I'm certain Aunt Victoria will be thrilled to meet my new acquaintances.

Who am I? Oh yeah...me...

So I find myself in a perplexing situation. I'm not entirely sure what's going on and it's frustrating because what it boils down to is that I don't know how I feel about something I don't understand. It's all very confusing...
I'm very...unsure. You see, there's a lot going on, but nothing is being said, if you know what I mean. I feel like there's a great big pink elephant in the room and everybody is politely ignoring it's existence.
Anyways, I'm sure I'll figure it out. Eventually...

Oh, Rochester!

Having just finished watching the BBC adapation of Jane Eyre, I have come to the conclussion that they just don't make men like they used to. This made me wonder though, why? Is it because the female of the species have found their independence? *cough*
If you look at Mr Darcy, Heathcliffe, Rochester...all impassioned sexy men; all lived in the in the 1800's; all looked positively dashing in high collers galloping around on horses or alternatively jumping into lakes.
Another question comes to mind - is there something lacking in the men of today which makes swoon after these 19th Century fictional characters, and is that why we seem to never be satisfied with the men we have and divorce rates have never been higher, or, have we just found modern counterparts and due to more flexible views on being with someone we have lost the capability to stick it out with someone, 'till death us do part'?
So what do the men of Austen and the Bronte's have in common?
~ They all have under-lying almost animalistic sexiness.
~ They are all tall and well built
~ They are all, lets face it, rather arrogant and up themselves
~ They all expect women to just..well, do what they want without considering her feelings on the matter.
~ Come to think of, they all treat women quite badly before copping on to themselves (although to be fair it's debateable whether or not Heathcliffe ever achieved enlightenment on the whole respect women part...)
So where does this leave us in today's world?
Well, we all know men who have all the above attriubutes, so I guess they still make them like that. If we have these men, why are we unhappy? I give you my ground-breaking, earth-shattering theory: the true appeal of these men is that the women they love change them. What we want : the asshole who changes, just for us. We want to be the one with that unknown power, that something about us that turns a chauvinistic player into putty in our hands and above all, a decent man.
And there's the rub. The men we love from those stories are fictional. In real life, those assholes? They won't change, and that's why so manyh women are unhappy.
Personally, I say, give the decent guy a chance - you might just surprise yourself. Or, play the field yourslf, have fun, do whatever the hell you like. After all, you onlyy live once.
And, speaking of Austen and Bronte...

Jane followed Katherine as close as she could, trying desperately not to step in any puddles along the way. Half way down the street Katy turned suddenly into a lane and Jane found herself host to a wonderful aray of bright colours, noises and smells.
"Where are we?" she asked Katy once she caught her breath.
"The English market. There's a wonderful little cafe up the stairs here. My friends are waiting for me. Come." replied Katy smiling.
Jane obeyed and climbed the narrow stairs, taking care not sgtep on her underskirts. The two made their way to a table in the centre of the room around which sat a group of four or five people. Jane's breath caught in her throat. She was rather shy in new company and was unsure how to conduct herself. Thankfully, Katy turned out to be wonderful in such a social situation. It quickly became clear to Jane that she was a very well-liked girl and knew exactly how to sway people to her way of thinking.
"Everyone," she began, "May I introduce Lady Victoria's niece: Miss Jane Granger."
Jane was immediately surrounded by a chorous of greetings and welcomes. She wondered how she would ever remember everyone's name!
After some tea, once she had relaxed a little, Jane even ventured to add her oppinion to the discourse which had at that point had turned to the recent marriage of Lord Baskerville.
"From what I've heard, her Ladyship was rather insistent on a quick marriage, if you know what I mean." a girl by the name of Eveline Netherfield was saying.
"How could you possibly know that?" Stephanie Charlton replied, "if you don't know anyone involved there is no way that could be verrified and you should not say it."
"I cannot say as to the truth of that matter, but I do know that Lord Baskerville spends rather too much time and money on those hounds of his much to the detriment of his health. His wife should be lucky to see him at all." Jane interupted, and immediately regretted for the table fell silent.
"My dear Jane, how could you know that?" Ava O'Conor asked wide-eyed.
Jane swallowed hard. Had she said too much? How much information was it appropriate to give? Had she assumed confidence in this cirlce too quickly?
"Please Jane, do go on. You're driving us mad with curiosity!" Katy prompted impatiently.
"My father spent time in England. He made an acquaintance with Lord Baskerville." she answered, her eyes down.
"Well, you are a very well conected young lady indeed."
Jane looked up, for it was an unfamiliar voice that had spoken, a male voice.
"Edward Winchester." the young man continued. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Granger."